


Quid Pro Quo

by mosylu



Series: The Injured List [2]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Caitlin is seriously the worst patient ever, Cisco will find a way to keep her on that couch though, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, she's whiny and grumpy, well there's some plot in there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say doctors make the worst patients. Caitlin's not <i>proud</i> to be proving this saying, but being stuck on the couch with a sprained ankle is driving her crazy. Lucky for her, Cisco's dropped by to entertain her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quid Pro Quo

“Hold up! Just what do you think you’re doing?”

Caitlin plopped back down to the couch and attempted to look innocent. “Nothing.”

She remembered suddenly that she wasn’t wearing a bra under her oversized University of Coast City t-shirt. She folded her arms over her breasts in what she hoped was an unobtrusive way.

Cisco didn’t seem to notice, too busy tsking at her. “You were on your feet, Caitlin Snow. I’m ashamed of you.”

“Just - um - getting up to get another ice pack. This one’s all melted.” The minute the excuse was out, she groaned to herself. She should have said she needed the bathroom. That would have been much simpler.

He shut her front door behind him and narrowed his eyes. He probably would have crossed his arms, too, except they were full of bags. “Oh, gee,” he said. “If only you had an amazing superpower where you could just poke the ice pack and refreeze it again in under a second. Hmmm, too bad.”

Caitlin flung herself back against the cushions and pouted. “I’ve been stuck on this couch for the past two days,” she whined. “I’m so sick of it. My ankle doesn’t hurt anymore.” That much. Now that the ibuprofen had kicked in.

“You’re the doctor,” he said, setting half the bags next to the couch. “How much rest and elevation do a badly sprained ankle require?”

“Up to a week, depending,” she said. “And yes, I realize I’m bearing out the adage about doctors being terrible patients - ”

“Did I say anything?”

“But I hate being stuck here.” She kicked the pillow and winced when her ankle twinged.

“It’s not for long,” he said, handing her a paper bag with a logo on the front. “Here, you hungry?”

“Yes, actually.” Inside the bag was her favorite sandwich and a bottle of iced tea. She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

He grinned back, producing a similar bag and dropping into a chair. “God knows what you’ve got in that fridge. Someone’s got to save you from yourself. Including keeping you from running around and making that ankle worse.”

She stopped smiling and rolled her eyes. “Ciscoooooo - ”

“Okay, it wasn’t exactly scheduled but what’s stopping you from enjoying it? Take naps. Catch up on your TV. When was your last vacation?” he asked, unwrapping his own sandwich and twisting the top off a bottle of orange soda. “Wait, don’t answer that. Probably around the time I last took some time off, which I don’t even remember, which is so sad for us both.”

“I’m not against relaxing,” she mumbled through a bite of chicken salad. “I’m just annoyed at the way it happened.”

“However it happened, you’re getting days off. What’s the diff?”

“It’s such a _damsel_ thing to do,” she grumbled. “It’s like something out of a Jane Austen novel. Ooooo, I fell and twisted my ankle.”

“Awww, yeah, I remember that part in the movie,” he said, taking a swig of soda. “Elizabeth Bennett fighting two bad guys at once, getting knocked off a three story building and catching herself in a snowbank of her own making with only a sprain to show for it. So wussy, Caitlin, honestly.”

She sniffed. “Still, it’s very inconvenient. And they got away.”

“We’ll get ‘em,” he said. “In the meantime, you need to get back in fighting form and that means - ”

“Couch,” she grumbled.

While they ate, he entertained her with stories of Wally’s visit to Star Labs the day before, and how Barry had started comparing the progression of Wally’s blooming speed to his own, and how Wally had goaded Barry into a race - which he’d lost, of course, but lost by a smaller margin than before.

“Dude’s dating my sister,” Wally had griped to Caitlin last week. “He’s like five years older than me, max. He’s always leaving his boxers in the bathroom. Now he’s all ‘back in my day’?”

“He’s doing his best to mentor you,” Caitlin told him, trying not to think of Barry’s own mentor.

“I don’t need a mentor!”

Caitlin kind of thought he did, but she’d mumbled, “Mmm,” and put him through another round of her latest test.

Now, she shook her head. “It’s like elks,” she muttered. “Or bighorn sheep.”

“Are you about to go all anti-man?” Cisco wanted to know. “Cuz I’d like to point out, Y chromosome right here.”

“Not anti-man, just - annoyed by these men.They get along so well when they’re not in the suits.“

Cisco turned his hands up, baffled.

When he came back from throwing the lunch things away, he found her fiddling with the remote. “Movie time?” he asked.

“I’ve been watching TV all morning,” she said, tossing it back on the coffee table. “I’m sick of everything.”

“We-ell,” he said, digging in a bag and producing one of the Star Labs tablets. “I did happen to bring this. It’s loaded up with all Wally’s latest tests from yesterday, including video, so I dunno, just in case you wanted to maybe look over th - ”

“Gimme!”

He laughed and handed it over.

She glanced up at him, feeling guilty. Wasn’t this his day off? “You don’t have to stay.”

“Nah, s'okay,  I’ll hang out,” he said, pulling his own tablet out of a bag. “Gotta make sure you’re not walking around.”

She huffed and turned the tablet on. When she was sure he was deep in his design, she let herself smile a little.

The data was fascinating, but there was only so much she could do with it on a tablet. After about half an hour, she peeked over the edge at Cisco. He was hunched up in his chair, one leg slung over the arm, his mouth twisted up in concentration as he twiddled something on his screen.

She’d seen him like this before. He looked like a bomb could go off in his ear and he’d barely twitch. Perfect.

Moving stealthily, she swung her bad foot off the pillow and sat up.

“And where do we think we’re going?” he said without looking up.

Oh, hell. Clearly he wasn’t as oblivious as she’d thought. “Just  going to put this on the charger,” she said. “You’re so deep into your project, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

He got up and came over, holding his hand out. She scowled and handed him the tablet.

“This is at seventy-four percent,” he said. “I know the batteries on these are starting to go, but it’s not that bad.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can get up,” she said. “I’m not a complete invalid.”

“Oh my god, doctors really are the worst patients. Do I have to tie you to that couch?”

Maybe it was the kinky overtones of the wording, or the tighter-than-usual Rebel Alliance t-shirt he was wearing, or the way his arms were crossed, which showed off the muscles. But for whatever reason, the exasperated question hit her right in the stomach and slid south like warm honey.

He seemed to hear it too, because a flush spread over his cheekbones, and he dropped his arms and cleared his throat. “That - uh - that came out dirtier than I meant,” he said.

She swallowed a few times and tried to sound breezy. “Well, I’m not in any shape for bondage, but you do still owe me a favor.”

He blinked a couple of times, his eyes going dark. He sat down on her coffee table, which normally she hated and would yell at him until he sat on a chair like a human being, but right now there was a more important topic under discussion. “I thought you forgot about that,” he said.

Forgot about it? Forgot about impulsively offering him a handjob one night a month ago, after he’d sprained both wrists? Forgot about the feel of his hard cock in her hand, his soft panting breaths against her ear, the thud of her heart and the pooling heat between her thighs as he moaned out his orgasm? Forget the way he’d kissed her after, and how they’d talked about him returning the favor when his wrists were better?

And then never referred to it again?

“No,” she said. “I didn’t forget.” Understatement. “But we’ve been a little busy.” _Massive_ understatement.

“Yeah,” he said. “We have. This new wave of metas, and Wally’s powers coming in, and us going out in the field more often - ”

“Right. I mean, what was I supposed to do, turn to you and say, 'I’ve got five minutes while this DNA finishes sequencing, you think you could get me off in that time?’”

His eyes swept over her, and her nipples prickled against the soft fabric of her shirt. “I’d’ve given it a hell of a shot,” he said.

She swallowed. “Well, we’ve got considerably more than five minutes now.”

When he didn’t answer right way, she remembered that besides the disreputable UCC shirt, she wore leggings that were starting to get baggy in odd places, no makeup, and her hair in a messy bun. Not a cute messy bun either, with carefully selected, face-framing tendrils, but an actual messy bun, hair that had been knotted up when still damp because by that time she’d been so annoyed after struggling to shower that she didn’t even want to bother blow-drying.

As seductive looks went, it … wasn’t.

But a slow, dark smile crept across his face. “Hell,” he said softly. “We’ve got all afternoon.”

He slid off the coffee table, going to his knees next to the couch. Heat puddled in her stomach at the position, which brought all sorts of ideas to mind.

He leaned over and braced his hands by her hips. Under her ass, the cushion sank with his weight. “What do you want me to do? Lady’s choice.”

He was six inches away, if that. She could count the stripes of lighter brown in his eyes. If she grabbed his shirt and yanked, he’d probably fall onto her, warm and heavy, and she would do her best to rip his clothes off.

And she was in no shape for that. Not right now. If she attempted it anyway, she’d probably doom herself to another few days on this damn couch.

She breathed him in, the warm familiar smell of his soap, which she’d been smelling for years without it turning her on and now, suddenly, it did. She touched his shirt collar, running her fingers up his neck, watching his lips part.

She met his eyes. “Eat me until I scream,” she breathed.

He blinked, then smiled. “You got it.” He leaned forward and kissed her, open-mouthed, carnal, sucking on her lower lip until she trembled and arched into him. She felt him smile against her mouth, and his warm, wide hand cupped her hip.

He pushed it up under her shirt, up over her stomach and ribs, leaving a warm, tingling path behind him. He made a surprised noise when his hand slid up over her naked breast. “Really?”

“I was just going to be sitting around,” she said. “Why wear a bra if I didn’t have to?”

“I’m not complaining.” He flicked his thumb over her nipple, his mouth quirking when she gasped.

“Not that I minded that, but you’re a little north of your destination,” she hinted.

“We’ve got all this time. I’m taking the scenic route,” he said, and pushing her shirt up over her breasts, bent his head to lick her nipple. She decided the scenic route was fine with her.

After he’d lavished attention on both breasts and she was one giant buzzing, sparking nerve, he lifted his head. “Okay, so my next question is,” he said in a voice that made her breath shudder in her lungs, “did you go commando too?”

“There’s comfortable and then there’s just being a complete slob,” she said with as much dignity as such a turned-on woman could manage.

He laughed at her and kissed her stomach briefly, running his fingertips over the skin above her waistband. Once, twice, and then they snuck under the layers of cloth, sliding down between her legs, combing through the hair there, delicately parting her folds. She squirmed, trying to find a way of pressing her hips up into his touch without using her bad foot for leverage.

“Oh, damn,” he murmured when he felt how wet she was. “Caitlin.”

His fingertips stroked up and down her folds, and a little, “Unh,” escaped her. He kissed her between her breasts, and then on her mouth, and pulled his hand out of her pants.

She blinked her eyes open. “What?”

He was getting up. “Get those off,” he said, pointing at her leggings.

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back,” he called over his shoulder, disappearing down her hallway. “Get those off.”

She gaped after him for a moment before hooking her thumbs into her leggings and her panties, and shoving them both down over her hips. He wouldn’t leave her hanging, and she didn’t want any more delays.

When he came back, she had one leg out and was trying to push the cloth over her bad foot as gently as possible.

He sat down on the coffee table again and helped her out, his hand warm on her calf as he tugged the stretchy cloth off her foot and tossed it at the chair he’d been sitting in.

She tried to focus as his hand smoothed warmly up her calf and settled on her knee. “What did you go get?”

“Towel,” he said. “Unless you want to lie in the wet spot all afternoon.”

She stared at him a moment, then put her hand over her face and laughed into it. Why was that so charming? And sexy? But it was. “No,” she giggled. “No, I don’t. Thank you.”

He helped her spread it out on the cushion and get positioned so her bad foot was up on the pillows again and her other foot was on the floor, spreading her wide and giving her enough leverage to move if she needed.

“How’s that?” he asked, kneeling with his shoulders between her knees. “Good?”

It was perfect. She bit her lip, watching his eyes drop and linger. “Well, your tongue’s not on my clit, so I could be better.”

His eyes widened - with delight or arousal or just astonishment. It was hard to say. “Damn, Caitlin. When did you get to be such a dirty girl?”

She was actually a little surprised herself. Usually it took her longer to let out this brassy, filthy, domme-y side. But she tossed her head. “I always was,” she said. “You’ve just never seen me in this position.”

He looked her over, rubbing his thumb in little circles on the inside of her knee. “Nope,” he said. “Sure haven’t. But fuck, the view is nice.”

She found herself blushing, and when he ran his fingertips up her thigh, she pushed her hips toward him. “Are you teasing me on purpose?”

“Yep,” he said, skimming his fingers through the hair between her legs. “Is it working?”

“You’re driving me crazy.” This was a side of Cisco she hadn’t seen either, and she wanted to see more.

“So that’s a yes.”

“Cisco!”

He grinned at her and slid his thumb between her labia. She let her head drop back as it stroked firmly up her slick folds, and whimpered when it pressed her swollen clit.

“Like that?” he asked.

“Unh-huh. Please - ” She opened her legs wider. “Please.”

“Since you ask so nicely,” he murmured, and replaced his thumb with his tongue.

She clutched the cushion, whimpering as he worked her over. God, he was good at this, not like some guys who figured motorboating your general vulvar area was enough. No, he varied speed and pressure, flicks against the tip of her clit, smooth gentle licks around the base, and god, her brain was _melting_ , it was so good.

At one point, he lifted his head to catch his breath, but kept touching, stroking, flicking with his fingers. He smirked at her, his mouth and chin shiny, and circled her entrance with his fingers, raising his brows at her.

“Yes,” she said, and he grinned again and slid one finger into her, to her choked moan. She moaned louder when he added a second one and began licking her again.

Her hips rolled up against his mouth and the pressure of his fingers inside her. She began telling him - “Harder, please, just - god, Cisco, I’m - I - ” Her words dissolved into whimpers and gasps as the sensations built and built. She squirmed, yelping, and then he sucked her clit and pushed his fingers hard up against her inner walls and she came apart with a shriek.

She collapsed back, panting, feeling like melting butter, soft and warm and going liquid around the edges. When she remembered she had eyelids and how they worked, she opened her eyes to see him wiping his mouth.

“Holy shit,” he said. “I really did make you scream.”

She let out a sigh, too blissed out to retaliate for the smug look on his face. He deserved it anyway. She hadn’t come that well in a long time. “I thought it was a sexy exaggeration myself, but here we are.”

“Yep,” he said. “Here we are.”

She smiled at him, and managed to push herself up on arms that only barely wobbled. “So,” she said, running her hand down his front and letting it settle on the bulge at his groin. “What are you going to do about this?”

His eyes slid half-shut at her touch. “Figured I’d take care of it,” he said in a husky, gravelly voice that hit her right in several nerve endings.

“Good idea,” she said. “Take care of it. Let me watch.”

His eyes opened wide again. “I really like this filthy side of you,” he said after a moment. “Did I mention? Like, really.”

She gave his cock a little squeeze through his pants and grinned at him, touching her tongue to her top lip. He groaned and reached down to undo his fly.

She’d thought about this, off and on. Not obsessively. They really had been very busy and they did have to work together and there was a lot more between them than a late-night handjob. But sometimes over the past month, she would look at him across the cortex and think, _I know what your cock looks like when it’s hard, and how the skin feels under my hand, and the sounds you make when you come._

She was pleased to find she hadn’t exaggerated anything - not the size or the shape or the general attractiveness of it. For such a fundamentally odd-looking body part, Cisco had a very nice penis. She wanted to touch it, but more, she wanted to see him touch himself, see all the spots he lingered on, what made him moan and catch his breath.

His lashes fell against his cheeks as he wrapped his hand around his own hardness. A few lazy strokes, with pauses to fondle the red, swollen head, and he looked back up at her. His eyes had lost the mischief from earlier and were just hot now, hot enough to send a zip of arousal right up her core.

Her t-shirt had slipped down again, falling over her lap. On impulse, she pulled it up, holding the fistful of cloth against her belly, and slid the first two fingers of her free hand between her legs, where she was still hot and wet.

His breath hitched, and his hand tightened just a bit. She bit her lip and pressed her fingers against her clit, rubbing slow circles.

“Fuck,” he breathed, like a carnal prayer. “Caitlin, oh my god.”

She wanted to come up with some snappy, sexy remark, but she couldn’t - her own touch and the sight of his hand stroking faster were short circuiting all her language centers, and she could only moan.

He was gasping now, panting, grunting. She remembered this progression from that night in the lab, and her own fingers pressed harder.

With a choked grunt, his hips jerked and cum spilled from the tip of his cock into his cupped hand. The sight brought on her second orgasm of the past ten minutes, a deep wide wave that rolled through her body and pushed out a long, low moan.

If she’d felt like melting butter before, she felt completely liquid now, boneless with pleasure.

He sat panting, his eyes closed, for a moment before he shook his head and looked up at her. “That was - that might be the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” he said frankly.

“This one time, I masturbated my best friend at work,” she told him. “That might be tied.”

He laughed breathlessly. “Yeah, that was a good one.”

Using the towel and kleenex from a box on the side table, they cleaned up, smiling shyly whenever they caught each other’s eyes. She leaned over to throw the Kleenex away, and he got up to retrieve her leggings and underwear for her. While he took the towel to the hamper in the bathroom, she got herself dressed again.

Just as she wiggled her leggings back over her hips, her phone rang. She checked the screen, frowned, and answered. “Wally?”

“Hey, Caitlin, how’s the foot?”

“Better, thanks. How are you? Did something happen?” She glanced at the tablet, thinking of the data she’d looked over. Nothing had looked odd or out of place to her.

“No, I’m fine, really, just - Is Cisco still hanging out with you?”

“Uh, he went in the other room for a moment, but yes, he’s still here.”

“I’ve sent like three texts in the past fifteen minutes and he hasn’t answered. Is his phone broken?”

She felt heat sweep up her face, and cleared her throat. “Um, we, we got a little distracted just now. But he’s fine and his phone’s fine and - ” She looked up as Cisco walked in. “And right here!”

_Wally,_ she mouthed, holding his phone out.

He frowned, pointing at himself. _For me?_

She nodded, and he took the phone from her. “Hey, man, what’s up?”

He listened, went a little red, and dug his phone out of his pocket. “Uh, yeah, sorry, we got sorta distracted there for awhile, but - yeah, I see 'em.” He read the texts, then turned the screen so Caitlin could see.

_Think I found a connection to magnet kid. Can Vibe come back me up_

_U there_

_Cisco?_

“Where’s this place? What’s the connection?” Cisco asked Wally. At the same time, he raised his brows at her in a silent question.

“Go,” she said quietly. They’d been trying to convince Wally to take along backup when he jumped into things, because his powers were still developing and his control was likewise. If he was asking, the place was either a little shady or they were getting through to him, and either way this was not the time to tell him to run around alone.

“You sure?” he murmured, under the faint sounds of Wally explaining.

She nodded firmly and made a shooing motion.

Cisco said louder, into the phone. “Yeah, he would. Ha. Barry’s a turd like that. Okay, I’ll meet you there. Yep. Yep. Text me the address. Okay. Yep. See ya soon.” He ended the call and handed her phone back. “Uh - I - he doesn’t want to call Barry because Barry’d do that whole older speedster thing and - ”

“- not to mention Iris would probably get all protective big sister and tell Wally to let Barry go - ”

And Wally would get frustrated and take off on his own anyway.

Managing speedsters was a job all by itself.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It’s the superhero gig, right?”

He tucked his hair behind his ear. “Yeah, guess so.” He hesitated, though, looking at her.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, tugging until he leaned over, and then she took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. He braced one arm against the back of the couch and kissed her back. He must have rinsed his mouth because she could only barely taste herself on his lips, a whispered reminder of what they’d done.

Like she needed it.

“Be careful,” she said.

He grinned at her, some tension leached out of him. “Hey, I have no intention of landing myself back on the injured list.” He gave her one last quick kiss. “Because you and me when we’re both at a hundred percent? Hooo boy. That’s something to look forward to.”

FINIS


End file.
